


A Naga’s Blessing

by WorseOmens



Series: Good Omens Outsider POVs [15]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Ancient India, Aziraphale and Crowley Through The Ages (Good Omens), Crowley is bad at being a Demon, Crowley is good with kids, Fluff, Humour, M/M, Minor Misunderstandings, Miracles, Naga Crowley, historical setting, outsider pov, soft Crowley
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-20
Updated: 2020-02-20
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:26:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22815406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WorseOmens/pseuds/WorseOmens
Relationships: Crowley & OCs, Implied Crowley/Aziraphale (mentioned)
Series: Good Omens Outsider POVs [15]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1545919
Comments: 85
Kudos: 1057
Collections: The Snake Pit





	A Naga’s Blessing

Sometimes, Crowley really outdid himself. He'd come up with his current 'dastardly plot' while stone drunk by the banks of the Ganges, watching a snake coiled up on the opposite shore. It had seemed genius at the time, and once he woke up the next morning having managed not to drown himself by accident, it seemed even better. Once he'd gotten Hell to swallow it, he knew he was in for an easy few years. After all, posing as a god was _technically_ evil, because the humans would actually be worshipping a demon. If he wanted to make sure they kept worshipping him, well, then that meant sometimes he'd have to do something beneficial for them, and he certainly couldn't be needlessly cruel. That would just scupper the whole thing, wouldn't it? 

"I'm thinking of the greater evil here, guys!" he'd announced with his best-and-broadest sales grin, when he'd pitched the idea at Head Office. "Just give me a few years in a nice cushy temple, and there'll be souls falling over themselves to get though those gates, you just watch."

He literally could not believe they'd agreed to it. When the approval form had arrived in his pigeon hole downstairs, he'd let loose a cackle so evil that a passing demon had actually wolf-whistled him. He'd been too elated to care.

He needed to tweak his corporation a bit before he approached the humans, just to sell the illusion of godhood. It was easy enough. Dark scales now freckled his belly, quickly becoming numerous enough to create a clean covering of shimmering black-and-red as his hips melted into a colossal serpent's tail, turning him into a creature that locals called a naga. It had worked like a charm. The humans had quickly installed him in the finest room in their temple, and proceeded to brag relentlessly to neighbouring towns. That was a sin of pride, begetting envy, and it was all definitely going down in Crowley's report to head office. There were still a few drawbacks to being showered in gifts and prayers all day long though... no legs, for one. His tail was ridiculously long and heavy, and had a habit of getting in the way. He didn't even want to think about what it was like to find a comfortable position to sleep. 

That was his current predicament. His room in the temple was large and lavish, full of silk and jewels and offerings of food that he sometimes nibbled at to be polite. A storm raged overhead, providing an irritating background of white noise to further ruin his attempts at sleep. He fidgeted constantly. His tail was always getting twisted, or sitting right in the way of a draft from the under the grand double doors to his room. He grumbled, rubbing his temples. In the back of his mind, he was vaguely aware of a noise out in the main chamber. He ignored it. It was probably just a goat or something, taking shelter from the rain. 

"H.. Hello?" a voice called, tiny and strained through tears. Crowley's eyes snapped open. That wasn't a goat. "Is anyone there? I'm... I'm lost."

There was a sniffle, and a sob. Carefully, Crowley lifted himself from his mound of cushions, slithering over to the door. He tugged it open just a crack, one bright yellow eye peering out into the main chamber.

At the foot of the sheer marble steps up to his room, there was a small silhouette on the floor. It was shivering, dripping rainwater onto the floor. Gloom had overtaken the temple, filling every corner with shadows and mist thrown up from the rain as it hissed against the open archway leading in from the outside world. What was a child doing here, alone, at this time of night? Surely, they knew no one was here? He carefully eased open the door, his scales silent on the stone as he made his way toward the child. 

"Hey," he called softly. He could only imagine how he looked, a looming nine-foot figure with golden eyes, half-submerged in darkness. 

The child gave a start. "Who's there?" she called, standing shakily and turning around to face him. To his amazement, she didn't even flinch. 

"Um... don't be afraid," he said, holding up his hands, unsure if that was really necessary. "I'm not going to hurt you. What are you doing here, at this time of night?"

There was a long silence. "... where?" she asked, almost silently. She sniffled again, hugging herself tightly. "I - I don't know where I am. I got lost in the rain, and - and I can't see..."

He took a sharp breath, dropping his hands by his sides. He squinted slightly, his night vision finally coming in handy. Now he looked again, he could see her wide, cloudy eyes, staring slightly to the left of where he was. "Oh. You're blind," he murmured quietly. He swallowed hard, sucking in his lips for a moment as he wondered how to proceed. She nodded. "What's your name, kid?"

"Parvati," she replied, voice still shaky. A pang of sympathy went through him when he saw her shiver again as a gust of wind blew in, bringing a spray of rain in with it.

"Well, Parvati, you're in the temple," he said. She immediately gave a sharp cry, straightening up as if he'd screamed at her. "What? What's the matter?"

She whimpered. "M... My mother says I must never go to the temple," she said tearfully. "She - she says there's a naga here, with poisonous teeth and big claws, and that only father should go to make offerings, to make sure he isn't angry with us."

He bit his lip awkwardly, looking down at his tail. "And, uh... you're frightened of the naga, are you?" he guessed, wincing.

She nodded. "I don't want to get eaten," she said. 

"I don't think you have to worry about that. The naga is - er, he's... usually asleep by now," he said hesitantly. It was a half-truth; he liked to be asleep by sundown, and it was long past that now. He slithered further down the steps, until he was almost next to her, eyeing the storm still raging outside. Only a few lights from the village strained through the blackness from the foot of the hill where the temple sat. "You'll never find your way home in that storm. You're better off here for the night."

She gave a start, stumbling back a few paces and turning her head to try and figure out where he was again. "You move so quietly," she said uncomfortably. 

"Yeah, I'm, uh... not wearing shoes," he said. It was technically true. He scratched the back of his neck, waiting for her to put two and two together. She didn't. 

"Oh," she said. She wrung her hands together, unsure whether to trust him or not. She guessed he must be a priest of the temple, so he should be a good man... But her mother had always been scared of her trusting strangers. She tilted her head up, in the vague direction she thought he was in. "What about my family? How will they find me?"

"That's tomorrow's problem," he said firmly. In truth, he wasn't sure how he was going to navigate that particular issue, and was too drowsy to think too hard about it. He sighed, rubbing the heel of his hand over his eye. "I'm going to pick you up now, all right? We don't want you tripping on these stairs," he said, waiting until she nodded in understanding before he reached out to her. She was surprisingly light, and felt frighteningly delicate in his arms. He turned around, scaling the stairs again carefully, trying to emulate the gait of walking. 

He lay back against his pillows again, moving a few of them into their own little heap to give her her own space. He set her down gently, and moved back, crossing his arms as she settled down. She curled up into a little ball, but her grey eyes didn't close. He wondered if she could tell that he was still looking at her. 

"Something bothering you, kid?" he asked, resisting the urge to reach out and tuck a stray piece of hair behind her ear. 

"Are you sure he's asleep?" she said in a tiny voice. "The naga?"

He cringed slightly, looking guiltily down at the pointed black claws on his hands that she was so afraid of. "You're safe. I promise," he said, his voice barely rising over the constant thrum of rain outside. 

"You... you won't leave me alone, will you? You'll stay?" she said, staring blankly ahead. He was a little glad of that... puppydog eyes always broke his heart. 

"Of course," he said. Subconsciously, his tail began to sweep across the floor, curling loosely around Parvati's makeshift bed in a protective motion. She gave a start, sitting up rigidly.

"What was that?" she cried shrilly. He jumped, realising she must have heard the rasp of his scales over the floor, now the rain wasn't loud enough to mask it. She twisted around restlessly, the scent of her fear choking the air. "I heard something!"

"It's just temple noises. Happens all the time," he said, trying to reassure her, forcing his tail to lie still. She breathed heavily, her teeth gritted. She wasn't sure she believed him. "Parvati."

"What?" she said weakly.

"Would I lie to you?" he said, his slitted eyes fixing her with a look so sincere, he was glad she couldn't see it. It was very undemonic of him. 

There was a beat of silence. She shook her head, and started to relax again. "I don't think so," she said. She collapsed back down on the pillows, resting her head against her arm. "Do I have to go to sleep, though?"

"Yes," he said sternly, trying and failing to convince himself that this counted as encouraging sloth. That's what he'd report it as, regardless. "I'll be right here, all night. Promise."

She hummed. "Okay then," she mumbled, her cloudy eyes finally beginning to drift shut. The rain which, not long ago, had swamped her senses now provided only a peaceful backdrop. Even then, she fidgeted, turning over a few times, adjusting her position. 

Crowley let out a long sigh. "All right, what is it now?" he said, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

"Can't sleep. This isn't like home at all," she said, tiredness beginning to weigh down her voice as even she began to get annoyed by her lack of sleep. "It smells all wrong."

"That'll be the incense. I like it that way," he said.

"I think you're wrong," she said shortly, with the kind of uncomplicated bluntness that only a child could get away with. Crowley let out a snort of laughter. 

"Fine, but I can't change it now," he said, turning onto his side to look at her. "Just... think of home, how about that?"

She lay still for a moment, clearly mulling something over. "... My mother sings to me, when I can't sleep," she said quietly. She held her breath in the surprised silence that followed.

"Right. Um... if I sing something for you, will you go to sleep then?" he said tentatively, fiddling with the edge of one of his cushions. He hadn't sung since he fell from Heaven. It wasn't the done thing in Hell, and if anyone found out, well... he'd be a laughing stock. Singing was for angels. 

"I'll try," she promised, nestling her face deeper into the pillow with an open, earnest expression. Crowley cleared his throat, took a deep breath, and sang the first thing that came into his head. 

It was an old song, in a language humanity had never known. It was one of the few had been sung in Heaven that weren't in praise of God herself. No, this one praised Her creation. Its rhythm rose and fell like mountain ranges, plunging deep into valleys and soaring into sheer-faced cliffs. The melody shifted with all the grace of a serpent, of a river, of a diving kingfisher... The words, words that had never been heard by mortal ears until that evening, formed whole nebulae of syllables, glittering with meaning, just as the dark surface of a lake echoed the night's sky when the clouds had gone to roost on the horizon. 

To Parvati, sound was everything. Music was sorcery to her, and Crowley's serene lullaby was the most exquisite magic. It was like the whole universe had unfolded in her mind, urged on by the foreign words that spoke to her heart before her mind. Just before she drifted off, she could have sworn she heard that strange 'temple noise' again... The kind priest was probably right, though. It was nothing. She wasn't sure what it was like, to see things, but she'd got the impression it was unlike any other sense. The whole world seemed to be built for people who could see. 

She wasn't totally helpless, though. She never had been. She may not have been born with eyes that work, but her ears were sharper than anyone's. Her mother didn't know that she could hear her crying in the evening, when she thought Parvati was asleep. Without sight, how would she live, once her parents grew too old to care for her? What would become of their little girl, when they were gone? No family would allow their son to wed a blind woman. Parvati's future looked bleak, and even she could see that. 

She'd only gone outside for a moment. Her father had even begun to weep that night, and she couldn't stand it anymore. The cool air blowing in from the window had been so soft on her skin, so inviting compared to the humidity inside, that she couldn't help but follow it. The windowsill was low, and not hard for her to crawl over. 

She'd taken a few paces away from her home, taking in the sounds and scents of the night, steadily tuning out the sound of her parents' grief. Other sensations had helped to soothe her, like mother nature's own lullaby. The nocturnal creatures sang in a chorus of voices that were unfamiliar to the warmth of the day, and the steadily growing wind carried with it the scent of dew. The storm had begun so quickly, she didn't have time to react. 

Nothing was familiar anymore. A wall of water shocked her first, followed by the baffling, omnipresent cacophony of raindrops and howling winds. The ground beneath her feet had rapidly become mud. She'd stumbled forward, hands outstretched hoping to find the wall of her home, only to be met with cold, empty air. No matter how many steps she took, thinking that it must surely not be far now, nothing materialised before her. Soon, the realisation had dawned that she was lost. Her nose was addled by rain, her clothes soaked, her sensitive ears bombarded with nothing but white noise, devoid of any of her usual daytime points of reference. She didn't know how far she'd stumbled along until she found shelter, and the voice of the kind priest had welcomed her into the temple. 

Parvati's father was the first to notice her absence. The whole house had flown into a panic, and everyone had immediately taken to the streets calling her name. Her elder siblings fanned out all through town, knocking on doors and breathlessly asking if they'd seen her. Her mother stayed at home. If she found her way back now the day had broken, then someone would need to be here to welcome her back. 

Her father sprinted down the street, feeling the ground rise into a steep gradient beneath his feet. The temple loomed on the hilltop. Dawn had barely broken, and the imposing silhouette cut through the red light over the horizon, like the gates to another world. He'd never seen the naga for himself, but he knew it was there. He made offerings to it. He'd begged for his wife's health last winter during a bout of illness, and she had lived. Maybe... maybe, if he could just make a bargain with the creature, it would help him. He had to hope.

He burst into the temple, skidding slightly on the dampness of the stone leftover from the storm. A nasty thought flashed in his mind, that she had been swept away in the river. He quickly banished it, focusing on the young priest who came running to see what was happening.

"You there, boy!" he cried, grasping the front of his robes. "Please. My daughter, Parvati, my little girl... she's missing."

"The blind girl?" he said in alarm. The priests were familiar with most families in the village. 

"I need an audience with the naga," he said, fixing him with an intense, wild-eyed stare. "Where can I find him?"

"With the - ? You can't! You can't just demand - !" he spluttered, but his eyes betrayed him. They flicked to the side, briefly settling on the towering double doors at the top of the marble steps to his right. 

It was all he needed. He threw the priest aside, charging toward the doors without sparing a thought for himself. Time was of the essence. Every instant that his daughter remained out there, wherever she was, the more likely it was that tragedy would strike. Anyone could find her. She could fall, hit her head, tumble into a ravine, or the river. An animal could carry her off, spying easy prey. This was not just his only option; it was a desperate, last-ditch cry of hope. He hit the doors with a heavy thud, forcing them open just far enough for him to stumble inside. The fearful shouts of the priest at his back quickly fell silent. No one dared follow him into the chamber. He'd be lucky to leave this place alive.

The first thing to strike him was the stillness of the room. His eyes, at first, refused to settle on what he was seeing. The naga was far, far larger than he thought it would be. Its tail sat in a solid curled-up mass of scale and muscle, right beside the mound of satin cushions that its upper half lounged on. From the hips up, the black and red scales gave way to pale skin, the peaks and troughs of its thin human body leading up until the cascade of red hair over its shoulders. For a heart-stopping instant, he thought it was dead. It wasn't moving, wasn't breathing, wasn't responding to his presence... until a slim, forked tongue flickered briefly from its lips, tasting the air.

Crowley's eyes snapped open. The scent of an unfamiliar human wrenched him immediately back to full consciousness. He pushed himself off the ground, rearing up high, his furious hissing reverberating around the entire chamber, just like the rain from the night before. He tightened his coils, feeling the smaller pile of cushions hidden in the centre, encasing Parvati in a cocoon of quiet warmth. He must have unconsciously begun to nest while he slept, protecting her as if she were his own young. Pushing that thought down, he stared down at the intruder, fangs bared.

"And who the bloody hell do you think you are?" he said, his voice thin and sibilant, not wanting to wake the child. "Who let you in here?"

The man stumbled back, but didn't run. His heartbeat grew louder by the second. "My name is Arjun," he called. He wet his lips, a tremor running through his whole body as he met that yellow stare. "O Great Lord Of Snakes, please... I need your help. I will do anything you ask of me, I swear, if you would just - just grant me just one kindness, I beg of you."

Crowley arched a brow. This was bound to be interesting. "Right, what is it this time?" he sighed, dropping his divine anger down to everyday irritation. "Let me guess, you want a son. Or a wife. It's usually one or the other, and you aren't about to get either, not from me."

"No, my Lord," he said, unsure whether to avert his eyes in respect. The naga didn't seem to care. 

Crowley sighed, leaning over for a moment to look down into the nest of coils where Parvati was still resting. She was nestled amongst the pillows, sleeping soundly, and didn't seem at all bothered by the conversation going on just behind the wall of scales around her. Deciding that he could at least spare a few moments, he lowered himself down almost to floor level again, so he could speak to Arjun without raising his voice. 

"I'm listening," he said guardedly, crossing his arms over his chest. 

"Thank you, thank you..." he murmured breathlessly, bowing low. "I am eternally in your favour, my Lord, most gracious, most merciful - "

"Yeah, yeah, I'm amazing, now can we move this along?" he said impatiently, rolling his eyes. If he'd had a foot, he'd have been tapping it. "It's too early for this as it is."

He nodded over-enthusiastically. That might work in his favour. “It’s my daughter, Lord. She’s blind, and - and last night, we don’t know how, but she got lost in the storm,” he said, tripping over his words, hands clasped together tightly in a pleading gesture. “Please... please, I need to find her. I need my baby back. She doesn’t stand a chance out there all alone. Take pity, I beg you, please...”

Crowley blinked. The nest of coils by his side tightened slightly, but he was only conscious of the movement when he felt Parvati wriggle in her sleep inside. He forced himself to relax. What was he thinking? Instincts or no instincts, she was never his to keep. It was probably this new form who ought to take the blame for thinking this way, he decided. Refocusing, he eyed Arjun, who was still blabbering, seemingly unable to control his words any more than he could control the tears gathering in his eyes.

“I don’t have much to give, my Lord, but I can offer you any service you see fit to ask for. I - I would even trade my own life for my daughter’s safety,” he said hoarsely. His head was bowed, his spine stooped in deference. “Anything. Anything, I swear...”

Arjun trembled in the deep silence that followed. He stared at the ornate tiles under his feet, trying to picture what expression the naga’s face could be wearing. Anger? Interest? Amusement? He flinched as a new sound rippled through the air, slow and rasping, and tentatively lifted his gaze. The giant tail which had been curled up beside him was beginning to unravel, gently revealing the sleeping form inside. Arjun pressed a hand over his mouth to stifle a sob. 

“She stumbled into the temple last night,” Crowley explained quietly, watching her chest rise and fall in a steady, sleeping rhythm. A tiny exertion of magic ensured that she wouldn’t wake up just yet. “You’re lucky I was the one who found her.”

Arjun dropped to his knees, the sound of the serpent’s voice reminding him exactly where he stood. “Thank you, my Lord,” he said breathlessly, grovelling, repeating those words over and over again, overwhelmed with relief. Just beneath that, there was a strong knot of fear. The naga had made no attempt to give her back just yet, and he feared that he would want to keep her for himself. To what end, he wasn’t sure. The thought of leaving her here with this beast made him physically sick. If needs be, he’d steal her back, and run as fast as his legs could take him. It would be a fruitless exercise, no doubt, but he had to try, for his daughter’s sake. 

“Since that’s hardly worth making a deal over...” Crowley said, tilting his head as he appraised the human. “I’ll make you a different offer.”

He gulped, fearfully lifting his head again. “Yes?”

“I’ll bestow a blessing on your daughter and in return, when she’s old enough to get married,” he said, seeing the exact moment Arjun’s face fell. “... you make damn sure that her husband is going to treat her well.”

It took a moment for that to sink in. Arjun’s heart had broken itself to pieces the moment the naga had brought up her coming-of-age, thinking that he was about to demand Parvati as his bride, once she became a woman. Arjun would never have allowed it. His daughter deserved better than to be bargained off to wed a half-serpent monster when she herself was just a girl. But... that wasn’t the choice he’d been faced with. He gawked at the demon, uncomprehending, trying to force words out of his mouth. There had to be a catch in here somewhere.

“... I don’t understand,” he said eventually. Crowley huffed.

“What is there not to understand?” he snapped. “Just don’t marry her off to any old prat, that’s what I’m saying. She needs someone her own age, who respects her. None of this forced marriage nonsense, either. Now, do we have a deal?”

He leapt to his feet, taking the creature’s outstretched hand and shaking it. “Yes. Yes, my Lord,” he said, fearful that he might retract the deal if he dawdled too long. He wasn’t sure how he was going to fulfil his promise, seeing as it would be difficult to arrange a marriage with any ideal husband to a blind bride, but he would do his best. All the naga had asked for was exactly what Arjun had always dreamed of securing for Parvati: a happy, safe future. 

Crowley nodded, pulling back his hand. He knew what the human had expected him to ask for instead. He probably should have chosen his word a bit more carefully to save him the panic... Oh well. What did it matter? If he couldn’t look after Parvati like his own child, he could at least make sure that someone else would take care of her. He leaned over her sleeping form. She stirred slightly as he lifted her into his arms, cradling her gently, with a small smile as she twisted in her sleep to lean on his chest. He bent down, pressing a small kiss against her temple, feeling a spark of magic set to work immediately on the blessing. He’d been getting rather good at them, ever since The Arrangement took root in earnest. Once he felt the magic settle itself beneath her eyelids, he couldn’t suppress a glimmer of smugness. Healing blindness was a notoriously tricky miracle to work, with lots of complicated technicalities and bells and whistles to get right. Most demons couldn’t even dream of it.

He stooped down again, placing her in Arjun’s arms. “That should do the trick,” he said. He pulled back, his black heart warmed by the sight of the father fussing over his sleeping daughter. “You’d best be off. Your wife will be worried sick.”

Arjun gave a start. “Yes! Of course, Lord, thank you,” he said, making for the door, but hesitating when he realised that his hands were full. Crowley slithered over, opening it for him with a tight smile. The human scurried quickly past him, head ducked low, and out toward the village.

Crowley watched him go through the gap in the door, vaguely aware of the overawed stares of the priests and devotees who had expected to witness a bloodbath when those doors finally reopened. He ignored them. Retreating back into his chamber, he pushed his cushions back into a single pile, and mulled over what he was going to put in his next report to Head Office. It was probably best to leave out the part where he’d healed a young girl’s blindness, effectively for free. In fact, if he wanted to make sure they never found out about that, it was probably best if he called this whole being-a-god thing quits for now. It had been a few years, after all. He’d had a good run, and Hell was starting to get antsy about the whole thing anyway. He wondered where Aziraphale was these days. Getting himself into trouble, probably... He smirked. Rumour had it, the angel had just arrived on a tiny island just off the European continent. There were big plans for that island. Big, ineffable plans, so he heard... it made sense to settle down over there, really. Once he said so, he had a funny feeling that Aziraphale might just agree with him. 

Parvati stirred. She squeezed her eyes shut tightly, letting out a low grumble. She turned over. In her half-asleep mind, she only vaguely recalled the night before. The kind priest who’d helped her was nowhere to be heard. Her father’s voice was close-by, and she felt her mother’s hand stroking her hair. They were talking about something. 

“Mama?” she said blearily, not bothering to open her eyes. “Is that you? Am - Am I home?”

“Parvati! Yes, sweetheart, you’re home,” she cried in relief, gently lifting her into a sitting position to cradle her against her side. Parvati grinned, breathing in her familiar scent as her heart soared with joy. “You’re safe. Thank the gods, you’re safe. I love you, so, so much...”

“Love you too,” she replied, returning the fierce hug. She felt her father sit down beside them, holding them both in his arms. She twisted around, finally opening her eyes, only for the world to come flooding in like a punch in the chest.

She screamed. Both her parents gave a lurch of shock. She looked at them. She _looked_ at them. Her jaw hung open as she was bombarded with shape, colour, texture, detail and movement. Everything was vibrant. Everything was new. Finally, she had something to link with the sounds she heard; the leaking roof, with its rhythmic droplets that gleamed in the sunshine as they fell to the ground. Her mother’s face, and the sharp gasp she took, as Parvati saw the expression of shock for the first time. 

“I can see,” she said weakly, her mouth dry. “I - I can see!”

Arjun almost fainted as his daughter turned to look at him. His heart lurched, the momentous change sending him reeling every direction at once. This was the naga’s blessing. He gave a sharp bark of laughter, crying for the second time that day, his infectious joy carrying his wife along with him despite her apprehension. She had good reason to be stunned. Not just because their daughter had been healed, but because her grey eyes had been split down the middle with a long slit for a pupil, encircled by a burning yellow iris. 

In Crowley’s defence, healing blindness really _was_ a very tricky miracle to perform.


End file.
